ay
and one this morning, the latter being written first and dated at Berne.
Ah! if it had reached me in due time, what distress I would have been
spared! What! he wrote you, "I love her," and said nothing to me! When
he left me you know how unhappy he was, and I, who was made so miserable
by his departure, I thought he was indifferent!

When I told you that I was about to sacrifice myself to console Madame
de Meilhan, you must have thought me insane; I can see by your letter
from Geneva, which I received yesterday, that you were dreadfully
alarmed about me. Cursed journey! Cursed mail! A letter lost might have
destroyed my happiness for ever! This letter was delayed on the road
several days, and, during these several days, I suffered more torture
than I ever felt during the most painful moments of my life. These
useless sorrows, that I might so easily have avoided, render me
incredulous and trembling before this future of promised happiness. I
have suffered so much that joy itself finds me fearful; and then this
happiness is so great that it is natural to receive it with sadness and
doubt.

He told you of his delirious joy, on recognising me at the window; but
he did not tell you, he could not tell you, of my uneasiness, of my
dreadful suspicions, my despair when I saw him in this garret.

Our situations were not the same; what astonished and delighted him,
also astonished and delighted me, but at the same time filled me with
alarm. He believed me to be poor, discovered me in an attic; it was
nothing to be surprised at; the only wonderful thing about it was that
my garret should be immediately opposite the house where he lived.... I
knew he was wealthy; I knew he was the Count de Villiers; I knew he was
of an old and noble family; I knew from his conversation that he had
travelled over Italy in a manner suitable to his rank; I found him in
Richeport, elegant and generous; he possesses great simplicity of
manner, it is true, but it is the lordly simplicity of a great man....
In fact, everything I knew about him convinces me that his proper place
was not a garret, and that if I saw him there, I did not see him in his
own house.

Remember, Valentine, that for two months I have lived upon deceptions; I
have been disillusioned; I have inspired the most varied and excessive
griefs; I have studied the most picturesque consolations; I have seen
myself lamented at the Odeon, by one lover in a box with painted women,
... and